“Oh, Lord Jesus, don’t let it be true!” Mama Sue wailed out her sorrow.
William and Ambrose carried Louella into the cabin and laid her on the makeshift bed.
Louella moaned, rolled onto her side. Eyes like slits as she glanced around the room.
William took off his hat. Pressed it against his white cotton shirt. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to her sooner, Miss Sue.”
“She’s alive?” Mama Sue’s eyes flashed with questions. Fear clung to her grandmother like black clings to the night.
Louella kept drifting in and out of consciousness. Every part of her hurt . . . hurt so bad she wanted to float out of her body and keep right on floating up yonder.
Through squinted eyes, Louella saw Mama Sue fussing over her. Grief rested on her grandmother’s shoulders, like they were built for the heavy weight of loss. “Don’t slump. We’ll be free soon.” Louella’s words were jumbled and mumbled, like molasses had thickened her tongue and was slapping against the roof of her mouth. Her body was letting go . . . taking her far, far away. Far from misery and despair. Far from fields that needed pickin’ . . . far from white folk that hated her without cause.
She drifted . . .
* * *
Louella was now walking down a dusty road. She had on a silk frock with a blue-and-black-striped petticoat and a bonnet to match. Everywhere she went, from the general store to the church house, she saw men and women who looked like her, dressed in their finery. They greeted one another with kindness and respect.
Where was she? She’d never seen colored folks act like this a day in her life. Heads were lifted, smiles wide, eyes bright. Bowed heads and frowns, with backs and fingers aching from the grind of the day, had become her norm. Not this.
A colored man trotted toward her, riding on a horse that wasn’t pulling a buggy with a white man in the back seat being carted off for a day of leisure. Instead, it looked to her that the colored man was off for a day of leisure. Not a bit of hurry about his jaunt.
“Top of the day to you, Miss Louella,” the man on the horse said as he came to a stop in front of her and then took off his hat and bowed his head to her before putting the hat back on.
Louella pointed at herself. “You know who I am?”
His head fell backward as he laughed. “Of course I know you. The entire province had better know, or they’ll answer to me.”
She didn’t understand why he would say something like that. She was nothing . . . a nobody. Why did it matter if the people in these parts knew who she was? “What is this place?”
Eyes gleaming bright, he said, “Why, my lady, this is a happy place. A place where the formerly enslaved have come to find peace and restored dignity, but you already know that, don’t you?”
* * *
“Louella, my sweet girl, please wake up.”
Wake up? Was she asleep? Was she only dreaming about this happy place? Eyelids fluttering, Louella wanted to keep them shut, but they defied her.
Mama Sue and William were standing over her. She wiped sweat from her forehead as her eyes adjusted. “Where am I?”
“You’re here with us,” William told her.
“Let me get you some soup.” Mama Sue lifted from her slumped position in front of Louella. She straightened as she walked away.
A tear drifted down Louella’s face. “But I don’t want to be here.”
* * *
April 1865
William’s first order of business most days was to walk to the gate of the plantation to pick up the Mississippian and bring it to the big house so Massa Montgomery could read the newspaper with his morning coffee.
William normally waited until Massa Montgomery looked over the paper before he read any of it, but the headline this morning was “General Robert E. Lee Surrenders to General Ulysses S. Grant.”
Surrendered? Was the war over? Although William had been enslaved since birth, the fact that Massa Montgomery was his father was the worst-kept secret on the plantation. He wasn’t allowed to address the man who had set his mother free months before she gave birth to his younger brother, Robert, as “Father.” But William had been allowed the run of the plantation. Had been taught to read, write, and to count and subtract money.
He understood the ins and outs of running the plantation, for all the good that did him. It wasn’t like Massa Montgomery was going to leave the place to him in his will. But there wasn’t much left of the Montgomery Plantation after the soldiers rode through, taking anything and everything that didn’t bark or cry. There hadn’t been any money for repairs around the plantation lately either.
William hadn’t asked about it. He had eyes and could see that Massa Montgomery wasn’t bringing in the money he once had. The cotton was being planted, but piles of it were still stuffed into barns. No one had taken any of it to market in months.
His father read the paper, then snarled as he looked at William. “What do you tell your congregation in that church I had built for you?”
“I tell them that the Lord will make a way for us, sir.”
“And you think the Lord wants me to lose everything so He can make a way for some ragamuffins?”
William stiffened. Ragamuffins? His lips twisted. “I think every man has a right to be free.”
“That again.” His father wiped his mouth with a napkin, then threw it on the table. “How long are you going to be jealous of your brother?”
“I’m not jealous of my brother. I’m thankful that he doesn’t live a life of bondage. But I do believe that others would benefit from such benevolence.”
Robert was a wanderer. He traveled whenever and wherever he pleased for two reasons: he was free, and his ivory skin tone helped him pass. William, on the other hand, had a caramel skin tone that could never be confused for a white man.
“Well, Lincoln has extended that kindness, as well you know, since you snoop and read my newspapers.” Massa Montgomery pushed away from the table, stood, and stormed out of the room.
William picked up Massa Montgomery’s plate, wiped the crumbs off the mahogany table. He folded the newspaper, placed it under his arm as he took the plate into the kitchen, and handed it to Mirabel.
Mirabel put the potato she’d been skinning on the table and looked at the plate. “He hardly ate anything at’tal. Is Massa Montgomery feeling poorly today?”
William patted Mirabel on the shoulder. “Just got a lot on his mind is all.”
“Well, eggs have been scarce around here lately. No sense wasting them.” Mirabel wrapped a towel around the plate and placed it on the table. “Waste not, want not. That’s what I always say. When he gets hungry later, he can finish his breakfast.” Mirabel went back to work on her potatoes.
William started to walk out of the kitchen but then turned back to Mirabel. “Oh, and I wanted to thank you for giving Louella a few things to do around here. Anytime she can get out of that field is a godsend to her.”
“Happy to do it.” Mirabel’s voice got low. She shifted her eyes this way and that. “She’s been teaching me to read when we have a spare minute.”
“You couldn’t have a better teacher.” Louella was a quick learner and took to books like a fish to water. He’d started teaching her to read about a year ago. They’d also been keeping company. He was ready for marriage, but Louella’s mind was on other things. Or maybe she didn’t see him as a good fit since he was twenty years older. He’d pondered the matter and had finally decided to share his heart with her.
Mirabel nudged him. “When you gon’ wed that girl?”
He grinned as he stepped away from the counter. “You never know, we might be jumping the broom and needing your famous peach cobbler one of these days.”
“Don’t you lie to me now. I’m telling Sue that we need to get ready for a wedding.”
That evening William went to the church to meet Louella and a couple of the other members to do some much-needed cleaning. He hoped he would get a moment alone with her, but that was tricky. He didn’t want wagging tongues claiming he was taking advantage of a young woman. And he certainly didn’t want to tarnish Louella’s good name.
He made his way past the bare cotton field. He wondered how long the cotton from the newly planted fields would sit in barns with no timeline for delivery to the cotton gins. The war had been bad for business, and William wondered if the plantation would ever recover.
The small church had been built on the back end of the cotton field so the preaching and singing wouldn’t disturb anyone in the big house. Some Sundays, it seemed like the Lord Himself came down from glory to listen to the praises they sent up. William was blessed indeed to pastor such a congregation of men and women who put their trust in God.
“Steal away to Jesus. Steal away home.”
William’s ears perked up. Someone was singing. It wasn’t a song they normally sang during worship service. “Steal Away” was sung in the cotton fields as a sign that the Underground Railroad was back in business. “Steal Away to Jesus” sounded like enslaved people were singing about going to heaven. The song actually symbolized escaping to freedom.
“I haven’t got long to stay here. My Lord, my Lord, He calls me.”
William opened the church door, eyes scanning the pews, looking for the songbird who had the voice of an angel. He’d heard her sing in the choir on numerous occasions, but never with the lilt of determination that was in her voice today.
Louella had a rag in her hand, wiping down the pew seats as she sang.
She was thinking about leaving again—always thinking about leaving this plantation rather than thinking on making a life with him.
He walked over to her and took the rag out of her hand. William sat down and patted the seat next to him.
“Ruth told me to wipe these seats down. I best keep working before she arrives and thinks I been slacking.”
“It’ll be fine.” He patted the seat again. “Sit with me.”
Sitting down, Louella placed her hands in her lap and glanced toward the window.
William put an index finger to the side of Louella’s chin and turned her to face him. “I know you have misgivings about our marriage, but if you give me a chance, I’ll show you how to love me.”
“This place.” Louella darted a finger in the direction of the big house. “These white folks have killed any love I ever had.” Her cheeks puffed out hot air. “I’m sorry, Reverend.” She lowered her head. “I hate so much, there’s no room in my heart for love.”
He handed Louella the newspaper. “God will remove the hate from your heart. Lean on Him.”
Eyes glued to the newspaper, Louella read, “‘General Robert E. Lee surrenders to General Ulysses S. Grant.’”
Louella’s head swiveled in William’s direction.
“The war is over. Things gon’ be different now.”
With a wide grin, Louella stood and put a hand to her heart. “We can leave now, can’t we? No one can stop us.”
He stood, took her hand in his. Squeezed it. “Stay. Marry me, and make my dreams come true.”
She backed away from him. “What about my dreams?”
His heart cracked a bit at the thought that her dreams might mean more to her than all the love he had to give. William took hold of her hands again. They sat back down. “Tell me about your dreams, and I’ll do everything in my power to make them come true.”
Sighing, Louella turned to William. “Nobody understands me. Mama Sue thinks I should just marry and stay on this awful plantation, but I want so much more than this.”
“Tell me.”
The soft light of the setting sun shone through the small window as Louella expelled a long, deep sigh. She looked at him, and he winced as he caught a glimpse of eyes accustomed to pain filled with the dimming light of the sun.
Her voice was calm and contemplating. “After Overseer Brown beat me, I dreamed about a place where people are happy . . . respected. That’s what I want.”
“I want those things for you as well.”
“But you’re content on the Montgomery Plantation . . . I’m not.” She turned from him, shoulders slumping inward as sadness seemed to envelop her.
William placed a finger under her chin and turned her back toward him. “You are my sunshine, Louella. I promise you’ll be happy with me. Can you make room in your heart for love?”